


Best Seat in the House

by LelithSugar



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: 'home movies', Anal Play, Dirty Talk, Domestic Fluff, Eggsy Unwin is a Little Shit, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Quick and Dirty, Sex Toys, Smut, Voyeurism, hands free orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelithSugar/pseuds/LelithSugar
Summary: Eggsy's young, willing, and able. Harry just wants a good night's sleep.





	Best Seat in the House

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the title... blame Spinal Tap. Just a quick thing to get out to you before I over-work it. I’m going two for two on bringing you fic when work book me in to faceless hotel rooms on my tod.

Best Seat in the House   
  


“Harry?  _ Harry _ .”

Harry snaps awake. Years in espionage will do that to you. That and a naked, sweaty, writhing young man pressing up against your back, pawing at your arm to try to turn you over, nudging his hard wet prick into your hip, voice a breathy urgent whine.

“Please wank me off. It’ll be so quick, swear down. Just your hand.”

Harry blinks, trying to calibrate himself, the glow of the clock dial imprinted when he closes his eyes again. Just for a moment. “Eggsy. It’s four in the morning.”

“Ten to,” protests Eggsy, as if that makes any difference. “I’ll be done by then, let you go back to sleep. Please.” 

He’s worked himself slick, presumably with his own spit and for all it’s a lovely thought, Harry can’t quite muster the enthusiasm for anything but a very basic stroking and Eggsy’s doing most of that, in fairness, shifting his hips to fuck into Harry’s obligingly curled palm. It’s obviously not the silver bullet he was hoping for and he wriggles urgently, chasing more pleasure than Harry has the wherewithal to give him half asleep. He almost growls in tense frustration and Harry would find that really enticing at more or less any other time of day.

“Maybe a finger? Please?”

“That requires both hands,” Harry grumbles, persuading himself to roll into his side so he can indulge him and then hopefully get a few more hours’ sleep, all the sooner once he’s done. Eggsy is no less beautiful when barely picked out in the orange streetlight seeping in the crack in the curtains, brow furrowed and shining, lip pinched by his teeth and Harry makes a really valiant effort for that. He knows he’s always counting his chickens where Eggsy is concerned, and though he’s not worried about repercussions should he tell Eggsy where to stick it - not where he wants to, evidently - this is exactly the sort of thing he’ll kick himself for not appreciating.

Harry sucks on his finger and uses that and what wetness has dribbled around Eggsy’s balls to tease up behind them and doesn’t even really have to do much, in the end: the soft rub teasing over Eggsy’s hole, the threat of it, sets him off. There’s a tight high whine of “ _ ohh _ , I’m gonna come,” and Harry sleepily thinks  _ oh good _ , doesn’t even say it because he’s already halfway back to sleep, and then it’s just a couple of moments of bucking and thrashing and  _ “oh yeah, fuck, yeah... _ ” before Eggsy’s pulsing over Harry’s hand and melting into a dozy, hot heap against his side. 

Of course, that leaves Harry with having to shimmy free of the duvet enough to grab some kleenex from the box that  _ isn’t there for that thank you _ one-handed, to wipe down with and throw pathetically in the direction of the bin. And  _ of course _ it’s once he’s snuggled back to where he was so comfortably dreaming, that his brain suddenly catches up with a cascade of images of Eggsy desperate and begging, though he’s now snoring flat out on his back, leaving Harry rock hard and throbbing and neither cruel nor confident enough to wake him.

It’ll teach him to go straight to bed when Eggsy’s jet lagged, at any rate.    
  


XXX

Eggsy hits the mattress laughing, connecting so hard that he bounces up and Harry has to wrestle him back down again, bare chest flat to the fitted sheet as Harry pulls twists his arms up behind his back.

“Last time I let you go straight to sleep after a mission I suffered for it. So I thought we’d play a little game first.”

Eggsy blows up at a strand of hair that’s in his eyes.

“Yeah bruv, love a sexy hostage situation.”

He only says  _ bruv  _ because he knows it winds Harry up, sends him back, and that’s why Harry really loves this bit. Remembers how viscerally he wanted to overpower a gobby little shit in a grubby pub booth; to show him how his Cambridge education had taught him how to fuck and see if that shut that pretty pink mouth up for five minutes. And now he has this: Eggsy happily kicking his feet to shuck his jeans and boxers off down his legs in Harry’s hands. If Harry hadn’t already rolled his sleeves up he’d make a point of it now, or of discarding his tie, but that’s undressed quite enough to grapple naked Eggsy into such willing submission. 

“Hush. Knee up.”

“Now I feel like I’m at the doctors.” 

“Do I need to start worrying about your relationship with your GP?” 

“Nah. You got nicer restraints.” Harry slaps him firmly on the meat of an arse cheek. “Ow! I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Eggsy puts his foot onto the mattress and gets comfortable. “You’ve got a bigger dick too.”

“Well, you’re not getting that.” Which is a shame, given how beautifully, how deliciously casually he spreads himself for Harry but, other than Eggsy getting home safe, today has not gone according to plan. 

“...no?”

Harry passes the end of the silken rope through the knot now binding Eggsy’s wrists.

“ _ Someone _ decided to be considerably earlier than anticipated, and I’m afraid I’m not fully recovered from this morning…”

Eggsy turns to look at him, a dirty grin flashing over his face because he knows exactly what harry means but he’s going to make him spell it out. 

“You stepping’ out on me, Mister Hart?”

“I might,” - Harry pulls the knot tight - “have become a bit over invested in planning this for  _ much later this evening.” _

“Ohhhh.” Eggsy gets it. As if he hadn’t already put two and two together by himself. “Still. This is a bit much to get out of giving me a blowjob ain’t it? Wouldn’t have took you five minutes.”

Harry chooses to ignore that. With Eggsy happily lying sprawled presented, hands bound in the small of his back, he steps back to retrieve his prize from the nightstand. 

“I bought you a present.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to unwrap it for me.” 

Harry could almost scream with frustration and he’s glad of i: Eggsy being such an absolute  _ shit  _ means the mission’s gone well, which he knew, but there’s well and  _ well _ and it’s so  _ good _ to hear him full of that cheek again, so aware he’s on top of his game and not afraid to make Harry work for it. 

Harry has in fact had the time and foresight to break the toy free from its packaging and insert some batteries, so he can dangle it in front of Eggsy’s face ready to go.

“Where’s that gratitude you’ve learned, hmm? I think you said you wanted one of these?” 

He holds it out to Eggsy on his palm, close enough for him to see clearly: a not-quite-basic prostate toy in brushed black silicone. He hopes he bought the right model; they’ve certainly discussed it although clarity of description was not exactly paramount towards the end of that conversation. A lovely little shiver goes down Harry’s back. 

“Is that the… oh sweet, yeah.” It’s a relief that Eggsy recognises it, remembers talking about it; it saves on preamble, and Harry takes it back to lube it up. “Sort of meant for when we’re apart though, you know? Might have sent you a video to say thanks and everything.”

Harry points at the tiny camera nestled within the filigree of the dresser’s mirror frame… he didn’t conceal it deliberately, but it’s nice not to be put off by obvious equipment. 

“Oh, I see how it is.”

“Cold-” announces Harry and slips the toy in before his warning really has time to register, and Eggsy swallows down a sweet little yelp at the feel of it. It won’t be hurting him: Harry was over-generous with the lubricant; it’s no thicker than his two fingers around the neck and Eggsy certainly won’t mind where the biggest bit sits: it’s very well designed to reward him for clenching and squeezing with firm direct pressure right against that sweet spot.

And that’s before they’ve even got started.

“Now let me help you up.”

Eggsy puts his leg down and lets Harry roll him onto his back to sit up, legs over the edge of the bed, toes nestling into the carpet. The toy’s invisible like this: Harry’s view is just of Eggsy, shoulders back and chest splayed out as though he’s at parade rest, thick thighs flattened out against the bed; cock jutting eager from his lap and bouncing a bit as he wriggles side to side for comfort. 

Harry thinks he sees Eggsy’s breath hitch, but he isn’t sure. 

The toy’s internal vibrator is remote operated, so the underneath is a smooth but pronounced curve, designed to be squirmed and rocked on. Eggsy settles himself flat and gives a roll of his hips, and Harry can see the way the toy must be moving in him because of the way his eyes flicker and roll back. 

“Fu-uucking hell.”

“That good?”

Eggsy just bites his lip, closes his eyes and nods. He’s not quite still, moving very softly as Harry steps up to kiss his already sweaty temple, to speak low against his ear. 

“It’s got three speeds and five vibration patterns.” Harry puts the remote clicker in Eggsy’s bound hands. “Use them wisely.”

Eggsy turns it between his fingers, feeling it out, blinking his confusion up at Harry.

“Shouldn’t you have that?”

“Should I?” Harry steps back to admire the scene he’s created: bound, naked boy; gorgeous little predicament which is extra wonderful on someone so transparently motivated by challenge and praise. The makings of a beautiful show, and Harry can be front and centre all over again when he watches this back. “I want you to be able to get off.” Eggsy’s phrases always taste a little dirtier on Harry’s tongue, even now, and sometimes that’s lovely for both of them. He runs a possessive, comforting hand down the outside of Eggsy’s thigh “No teasing. I want to watch you enjoy yourself.” 

“But not the easy way.”

“Basically, yes.”

Eggsy raises his eyebrows and drops them; the facial equivalent of a shrug.

“Alright.”

Eggsy stills, sets his shoulders, and Harry hears a soft tick and the quietest hum, like a fluorescent light on the blink, about to blow. Eggsy breathes out long and slow through his nose, but a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

_ Click  _ and then it’s definitely a buzz and the blissful smile breaks on his face, his heavy breath coming out of his nose as a ‘ _ mmm _ ’ that Harry could listen to forever: that first little tinge of hope, the satisfaction of an urge not yet developed that’ll make him want more, if he doesn’t already. 

_ Click _ and then a rumbly thrumming that makes Eggsy fetch a breath in quickly as a gasp and then another to allow him to groan and Harry watches, fascinated, as his hips seem to move of their own accord, surprise crunching Eggsy’s brow and then the bridge of his nose as he snarls another wanton little noise. His cock’s flat against his belly when he curls back to thrust forward again, and glistening at the tip.

Eggsy presses the button again and the consistent thrum is replaced by a quieter one, building up and ebbing away again. The wrinkle across Eggsy’s nose changes to one of vague disdain. 

“How do I make it go back one?”

“I think you have to cycle all the way through.” Harry has read the instructions. He also knows what’s coming next.

Eggsy thumbs the clicker and the second pattern is a quick hard pulsing that seems to take him by total surprise - if his face and his ramrod spine are anything to go by - and it’s far, far too intense for this stage of the proceedings. He clicks frantically off it only to end up with a varied pulse pattern, a strange almost random sequence that sounds like morse code. Why anyone would need to transmit “ _ A - G -K” _ against Eggsy’s prostate is another question entirely, and whatever it is, Eggsy’s not happy about it and he squirms frantically in a way _so_ close to getting HArry hard again, even now. 

Eggsy clicks again.  The final pattern is a more recognisable  _ short-long-short-long _ but the pauses between seem to vary: far too unpredictable to pin pleasure on and Eggsy lets it cycle through a couple of times to try to work it out, screwing up his face and circling his hips to try to catch the nice part against the good places and failing repeatedly. It’s wonderful to watch, and Harry thinks about telling him to just carry on like that... but not tonight.

“Oh god, what fucking sadist came up with that one?”

Harry shrugs. “Not to your taste?”

He hesitates. Interesting. Eggsy’s colouring a little in the cheeks already and being coaxed to talk through his pleasure will only make him blush more but Harry loves to draw him out and Eggsy enjoys being pushed out of his comfort zones, keen little scout that he is, and when he knows Harry will reward him....

“I liked it on gentle. Like, the first two.” He squares his shoulders again, catching the heat in Harry’s gaze and taking it for the encouragement it is. “But I’m gonna save it, I’ll get numb if it’s on too long? Like, go past it without ever getting there?”

Harry combs Eggsy’s hair back from his face with his fingers and kisses him in reward, working down from his cheek to his lips and sealing their mouths together, swallowing down Eggsy’s grateful little noises and gently just suggesting a rocking motion with his hands under Eggsy’s arms. Eggsy takes it, evidently likes the pace Harry’s guided him to or wants to show willing and keeps rolling his hips just the way he’s shown, feet flat on the carpet now, toes digging in for purchase as he grinds down against the bed..

“Beautiful.”   


There’s no smart-arse remark, so something must be feeling fairly promising.

Harry undoes another button and perches on the edge of the dresser to watch: to watch Eggsy’s abs working to shift him back and forth and rock the toy against that spot for him; to see the effect it has as tics in Eggsy’s slack cheeks, flickers of his eyelids, the uneven rise and fall of his proud chest.

It doesn’t look easy, though. It’s obviously feeling good enough to interest him in putting the effort in but Eggsy breaks a sweat fairly quickly and Harry almost feels guilty for making him work so hard fresh back from a mission, but he tells himself it’ll do him good in the long run, to be tired out and thoroughly spent before bed. History’s proved it the best option for Harry’s night’s sleep, at the very least.

Eggsy makes encouraging hot little noises when he breathes out and his cheeks aren’t pink anymore; they’re properly red in a bright stripe under his hazy eyes and he looks like he might lose himself to it, but he’s not getting anywhere fast and Harry doesn’t want him to tire out before the crucial moment, so he walks up beside the bed and Eggsy leans his head against Harry’s chest, dazed and weary.

“I can’t come like this.”

“Yes you can. I know you can do it.” An amount of very vivid wishful thinking might be involved but Harry is passingly confident Eggsy can do anything he puts his mind to, as biased as he might be, and he knows that the elusive hands-free orgasm is, at least, within his capabilities.

“Nah, I’ve never… well, only with your fingers, like…” 

As if Harry needs reminding.

“And you weren’t in control of those. Now you are. You can give yourself exactly what you want.”

“I  _ want _ you to touch my cock.” But it’s not a demand: he knows he’s not going to get it but it doesn’t mean he’s not going to try. “Please? Swear, I’m gonna come like, the  _ moment _ you touch me.” It’s an enticing thought and he knows it, but. Harry’s had loftier dreams ever since he caught Eggsy lingering over the product page with that look on his face and the heel of his hand against a dramatic bulge in his boxers.

“Why would I want to spoil my own fun like that?” Harry gives up his view to climb onto the bed and kneel behind Eggsy’s back, trusting the camera with the rest. Eggsy’s hair smells of coconut already tinges with the salt of sweat, like a deep breath of a sea breeze. “You’ll do it if you keep trying. Focus.” 

And he watches Eggsy do just that: consciously tense and relax his whole body, re-centring himself on the pleasure deep within himself and settling back into a smooth rocking motion, just the lower half of his body whilst his head tips back onto Harry’s shoulder.

Harry can’t resist the urge to draw his thumbs down Eggsy’s chest. He never said he’d try not to touch anywhere else, really, and Eggsy whines suddenly in gratitude, hips kicking, mouth falling open, slack around a moan.

“That’s it.” Harry kisses Eggsy’s temple, plans reshaping with every shudder of Eggsy’s breath. “What do you need, darling? Ice? I could bite you? Do you need something to watch?'

He half expects to be told Eggsy needs him to stop pissing about, but Eggsy shakes his head. Harry finds himself lost in the passing thought anyway, thinking about watching Eggsy watching porn: the glazed look that comes over him, the way his lips move as though he’s talking to the actors, urging them on. Harry wants to do the same to him; to watch him climb towards orgasm in vivid detail and then help him over the edge with just his voice, with soft words of encouragement and need… but if more practical help will get him there, it’s worth it.

It’s probably the offer of teeth that tells Eggsy Harry’s not playing around, and with his own orgasm held over him, he shakes himself from the haze of not-quite-there pleasure to get to work. A few real hard thrusts of his hips that have him grunting in the back of his nose, but he can’t keep that up, and he trusts Harry to make good on his offer.

“Help me move?”

With Harry holding him under the arms, Eggsy gets his legs under himself to kneel, then spreads his thighs and sinks down, down until his arse and the toy are flat on the bed again and then he moans. Harry has to swallow hard so that he doesn’t echo him - Christ, that flexibility still manages to take him unawares sometimes. And of course Eggsy’s hips kick quickly, easier like this as he can push the base of the toy against the bed for full effect, his cock tapping him just under the navel and pulling a string of clear liquid with it when it’s bounced off.

“Thas’ it…” Eggsy mumbles and Harry sees his abs flinch when he flicks the button to turn the vibration on again, the way he seems to melt for a moment in response before decisively pushing the toy to the second setting and putting his body to work.

Harry supports Eggsy’s rocking, harder and harder until Eggsy throws himself right back into Harry’s chest, weight there to let him drive his hips, and Harry finds his hands gratefully feeling over the hot strained muscles of Eggsy’s chest to thumb at his nipples.  Everything; anything to help him tip over that edge and he’s approaching it fast now, if Harry knows him as well as he thinks - humping at nothing so quickly it would be comical if it wasn’t searing bloody hot how desperate he is for it, how shamelessly he fucks himself back onto the toy, rubbing the base against the mattress to move it and pushing back against Harry's body. 

“Harder? Like, pinch?”

It takes a moment for Harry to do as he’s asked and the line of Eggsy’s throat cords as he throws his head back onto Harry’s shoulder, bows his back.

“Is that it, darling? Is that what you want?” Harry tries not to sound smug, he’s breathless with it too, really, but it’s all too wonderful. More glorious by far than the approximation he made himself come to this morning, but he can’t regret it: the clear head helps and he’ll have the video to enjoy playing back. “Do you think you can make yourself come after all?”

“Yeah.” Eggsy drives his hips harder, voice a scratchy murmur, eyes tight shut. “ Yeah I can.”

“Are you going to?”

“Yeah.” 

“Just like this.”

“_Yeah_,_ aahh-_!”

Harry doesn’t worry about what he’s watching because he knows he’ll be able to play this back as many times as he likes and spend each one finding something new to wonder at: watching Eggsy’s cock for the way it darkens and hitches; watching the jump of his muscles or the way his jaw is clenched, mouth is frozen around a noise he doesn’t make. Harry focuses on his one task: on keeping the tension on Eggsy’s nipples, rolling and pulling just firmly enough that when he squirms in Harry’s arms it really yanks on them, setting off this gloriously beautiful shuddering, jerking orgasm that seems to lock and freeze every part of Eggsy’s body before his cock spills over, spurting up onto the plateau of his belly and dripping on the bed between his splayed knees.

Somewhere in the rigours, Eggsy squeezes the toy’s remote and then drops it in shock when it leaps up to its highest setting right against his oversensitive nerves: flops over and spasms like he’s been electrocuted, a last desperate drizzle of clear fluid pooling from his cock as he twitches wildly on the bed. Harry takes mercy after just a moment to watch, hooks his finger between Eggsy’s body and the toy and pulls it out, still buzzing manically enough to make Harry’s hand fizz.

“Fuck,” Eggsy’s saying to himself, still jerking with the phantom pulses of it, “fuck, fuck fuck. Oh, shit.” Another slow spurt of fluid pumps from his cock, flooding into the puddle he’s made and then he’s finally coming down, shaking, curling up on his side whilst Harry frees his hands and kisses down the curve of his spine.

Harry gets up once Eggsy’s topped twitching under his stroking hands, showers quickly and returns with a thoughtful damp flannel and a fluffy dry towel to find Eggsy poring over his new toy’s packaging, holding it absently - does Harry imagine protectively? - on the open palm of his free hand.

“This is dishwasher safe.”

“That’s nice for it.” 

He reads on. 

“...You fucking wanker.” 

“Hmm?” Harry knows, but he also knows he does a very good innocent face when he’s trying. He isn’t. 

“Was you gonna tell me it would stop if I held the button down?”

“Now,” Harry pinches the camera from the mirror top and squeezes it to turn it off. “Why would I sell you short like that? You’re a clever lad, and I do so enjoy watching you figure these things out by yourself.”

Harry climbs into bed and Eggsy joins him quickly, legs entwining to pull him close and against Eggsy’s startling heat. Eggsy’s lips are against Harry’s throat instantly, the threat of teeth amidst hungry, purposeful kisses. His voice is deep and chalky with strain and tiredness.

“Keep talking like I’m a kid with a puzzle block and watchin’s all you’re gonna get to do, yeah?”

Harry kisses him sound and deep, regaining his ground with a possessive hand in the back of Eggsy’s hair. 

“Let’s review the footage together, tomorrow,” - he nips at the pout of Eggsy’s bottom lip - “and I can show my appreciation for your performance.”

“How’d you make it sound like a debrief?” Eggsy wonders contentedly against Harry’s jaw, and he’s asleep before Harry can counter by asking why that turns him on.

It’ll wait until they’ve both had a good night’s sleep. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you enjoyed! Your feedback is what keeps me writing. You can also find me on [twitter ](https://www.twitter.com/agentsnakebite) and [ tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/randomactsofviolence).  
Much love.


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